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I can’t.
Like hell, she couldn’t.
Shifting position, Mack skirted behind her, leaving his fingers tucked in that snug cunt. She squeezed him in quick pulses, her climax poised and waiting for the signal to release it. Leaning her back against him, he adjusted his supporting arm to cup her breast, pinching a pert nipple tightly and rolling it back and forth in time with the beat of her inner muscles.
Setting a foot between hers, mindful of his boot against her bare feet, he tapped her legs wider until they were hip-width. He touched his lips to her fingers, pleased they were warm and a healthy color despite the length of time she’d been bound. He’d make this quick—she was no doubt feeling the strain of keeping her arms raised in this position.
“All right, pixie, why don’t you show me how much of a good little girl you can be,” he purred in her ear. He grinned when she clamped down on him and moaned. “Yeah, you want to bea good girl. Good girls get to come all over fingers and cocks as many times as they want, don’t they?”
She nodded earnestly.
“Take a deep breath and relax. Look at your Daddy, find his eyes and hold them, pixie. He’s going to watch you come apart all over a stranger’s hand. If you’re a good girl and scream his name, he might even fuck you when I’m done.”
There was no hesitation; her head tilted slightly as her back lifted into his chest with that deep breath he’d commanded. She whined when his fingertips stroked over and over her G-spot; he felt it bloom, knew he had it right when she began to shake, her hips riding his hand feverishly.
Juices dripped down his fingers to gather in his palm, trickling down the back of his hand. When she let go and allowed herself to be aroused, she gave bountifully. The fragrance of her arousal was heady, sweet, a shot of fucking Viagra to his already painful cock.
Stroking turned to thrusting. Gently at first, massaging that magic spot, but something inside her resisted the lure of orgasm. Her shaking intensified, her moans growing deeper and plaintive. Massaging evolved into striking—quick, sharp curls of his fingertips battering her G-spot in a hammering rhythm.
“C’mon, pixie,” he coaxed. “Don’t think your Daddy will be too pleased if I fingerfuck your ass at the same time.”
“Liam!” The scream tore out of her, high and frantic, as juices spurted over his hand, down her legs, over the stage floor. “Daddy!”
Well, shit. Laughing, Mack held on to her, using his fingers to strip every ounce of pleasure he could from her bucking body, barely able to think past the vicious grip of muscles milking him for all they were worth.
“Good girl, Sierra. It’s okay,” he soothed when she whimpered and went limp, her legs folding bonelessly. Holding her up, heextricated his fingers carefully, giving her messy folds a gentle pat. “We’ll get you cleaned up and back to your Daddy, all right? Such a good, responsive little girl.”
The look she gave him was a mixture of adoration, shock, and exhaustion.
Without getting his straining dick anywhere near her pussy, he knew he was fucked.
Liam
Reverence.
It was the only word to describe how the strange Dom handled Sierra from start to explosive finish, and the only fucking reason Liam let the scene play out to that end.
One word from Sierra, one wrong look, and he’d been prepared to physically slam the big bastard away from his sub. Her reaction to the guy, however, had been receptive from the start—an anomaly in itself, given her reluctance to interact with society in general.
What began as an exercise in boosting her self-confidence turned into something a lot more fortifying and, in Liam’s opinion, an enlightening experience for them all.
“He’s taking a lot of liberties with your girl, Liam,” Fordham muttered, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him. “Is this what you intended to happen?”
“No, but I’m good with it. So’s she,” he added, watching as the Dom finally looked over and made eye contact. An interesting mix of blue and grey, direct, unapologetic.Aroused. “He’s the only one who sees her for who she is, not her physical flaws. He touched her like the precious gift she is, and she doesn’t come for just anyone. After Wyatt, she has precise requirements to meet before she relinquishes control; he met them.”
“So we’re not breaking any noses tonight?”
Liam laughed and elbowed Ford. “Not his, anyway. Can you get the ropes off, Ford? I think he and I need a chat while my minx takes a nap.”
“If you’re sure.”
They stepped forward together as light applause rippled from the crowd—the crowd Liam forgot even existed until now. Watching his girl come unraveled under another man’s hands eclipsed everything but the couple under the spotlight.
Fordham got straight to work, deftly undoing the knots as the stranger cradled Sierra’s limp form protectively. Within moments, the ropes were free, tumbling to the floor around Sierra’s bare feet.
In silence, Liam weighed up the new guy.
Six-two, light brown hair bleached blond at the tips by the sun, at a guess, not for fashion. Clean-shaven. Those mercurial blue-gray eyes. Physically fit, but not overstated muscles; just enough to fill out the black stretch-knit long-sleeved shirt and jeans to perfection.
